Hungry Like the Wolf
by Neo.Natalie
Summary: It's "this time of the moth" for John... only he doesn't know yet. Of course, Sherlock is happy to inform him about the "good news". Some random crack I just HAD to write.


Hungry Like the Wolf

„I want an otter!" „Shut up, Sherlock!"

The detective frowned. He still had to figure out what to say to John to get another response. "We're out of milk again." "Shut up, Sherlock!" Not even the usually rant about it being his turn to buy milk. Uh-oh, John was really in a bad mood today. He had been sitting at his laptop for hours now, not even writing much, just staring at the screen.

"John, you can talk to me, you know? About anything… If you are angry with me, just tell me." "Shut up." "John, just say SOMETHING else, will you? Just so I know you're alright! You might have suffered acute brain damage for all I know."

The doctor looked up and turned to face Sherlock. "But I am NOT ok, Sherlock. I am just not. Don't you get that? I got up today and realized I was NOT ok. And I will never be again. Ever. And there's nothing to save me, no one to help me. I will just be sitting here, being unproductive for the rest of my miserable life. And you will be the one out solving cases and being brilliant and I will just be… a mess."

"You know that you are essential to my being brilliant, don't you?," Sherlock asked tentatively. He had no idea what got into John all of a sudden. He had been ok yesterday. "And you do good work as a doctor, saving lives and all." "I'm standing in for a bloody SCULL, Sherlock. And I'm not saving lives, I'm treating hypochondriacs on end. Fact is, I can be replaced. Any day, and time. I'm not important."

Sherlock scowled. "Most people can be replaced, John, even if I can guarantee you, the scull wasn't as essential as you are to me. And you were just fine yesterday. What changed since then? Did someone in a dream tell you that you only had one line today?" "Shut up." "That's what I'm aiming at…"

John frowned. "I really don't know why I should bother to tell you. It's not like YOU would understand, of all people." "Try me." "I'm hungry, Sherlock. I want more from life. I want what other people have: Friends, a girlfriend, kids, maybe… or just go to a party every once in a while, go to the gym, not freaking gain a pound a week."

"So that's what this is all about," the detective said, "you gained a bit of weight." "No, that's NOT what this is all about, Sherlock!", John shouted, "It's about having a social life, having a family, getting laid…" The doctor broke off. "Ah," Sherlock said drily, "you want to have sex." "Yes, with you."

John suddenly looked shocked. He seemed to have surprised himself there. The detective raised an eyebrow. "I think we had this conversation before." If possible, John looked even more shocked. "No, we didn't." "Well, you didn't say it out loud, last time, but the intent was pretty obvious." The doctor suddenly got up. "Ok, as I obviously can't talk to you about this, I'll give you a choice: either you let me fuck you, or I'll leave. And never come back."

The detective just stared at him. "John, you are scaring me a bit, do you have a fever?" Slowly, the doctor sat back down again. "No, I don't… I didn't mean to… I mean I was...," he stuttered. Sherlock tried to deduce something else than embarrassment from his body language. But there was nothing. John didn't look any different than on other day. Neither did he look feverish. A bit flustered, maybe… Let's try something.

The detective got up and walked over to where John was sitting and put his hand on the other man's shoulder. The doctor's breathing picked up at once. Clearly aroused. But usually John could control his feelings for Sherlock, why couldn't he now? He was behaving like an animal in heat: fierce and ready to leash out, very emotional and easy to arouse...

"You didn't take anything?", Sherlock asked, but he already knew the answer to that. John would never take any kind of aphrodisiac, and why would he? "No, of course not!" What would have been a calm answer on other days, came out almost as a shout. Clearly, something was different. But what? It was still John, but not quite. As if something was affecting him. But nobody had been here, nobody could have drugged him... a force of nature, then... nature, nature...

"Oh, oh but OF COURSE!", Sherlock exclaimed. "What?", John barked. "You're a werewolf!" The doctor laughed drily. "Seriously, Sherlock? A werewolf? And what are you then? Snow white?" The detective's eyes fixated John for a moment, as Sherlock tried to decide if he could trust the doctor enough, if he could say... but yes, it should be alright.

"No, I'm a vampire." "A vampire, but OF COURSE," John laughed, "that's why you never eat and never sleep; it all makes sense now!" "Exactly," Sherlock said, missing the sarcasm. "But it's ok, then, we can have sex."

John's chin almost hit the floor at that and he needed a minute, just to close his mouth again. Then he needed another minute to get his speech back. "What?" The detective rolled his eyes. "You're a werewolf, I can't kill you when I bite you, so we can have sex." "Wait… can we get back to the point where you are a detective and basing every decision on reason?", John asked. "I am!", Sherlock said, "I want sex, you want sex, we won't harm each other, so we can have each other."

"You want… sex? With me?" "God, John, you are even more daft then usual," Sherlock said, ruffling his hair in exasperation, "is this the influence of the moon as well?" "Insulting me won't do Sherlock," John said, suddenly calm again. "Now, let's start with the 'werewolf' thing. What gave you that idea?" The detective frowned. So he just had to loose his nerve for John to be reasonable again? Fine with him. "It's almost a full moon, you have never acted like this before and you are obviously showing your animal side, ranting and shouting out everything you want without thinking about it first," he explained.

"I DO feel kind of peculiar today," John admitted, "but I would rather put this down to having slept badly than to some ridiculous…" "It's not ridiculous, John!", Sherlock shouted, "Take off your shirt." "What? Sherlock we're not…" "Just take it off. I have to prove a point here!" The doctor sighed and complied. A red line was clearly visible on his scared shoulder. The detective pointed at it. "There, you see? That's were you have been scratched, apparently. Not as effective as a bite, of course, takes longer to have an effect, but all the same…" "It's just IRRITATED, Sherlock," John interrupted him, "I tried a new body lotion and it didn't agree with me, that's all."

The detective was silent for a moment, his hand still stretched out towards the scar, his mind working in over-drive. "You don't know," he finally said, "you're a werewolf and you don't KNOW yet." John just laughed drily. "Yea, right, that's a good theory. Now what about the vampire-thing? I can't believe I'm even discussing this with you."

Sherlock stepped even closer to John and showed him his fangs. The doctor frowned. "Is it Halloween already?" The detective hissed at him. "Very impressive," John remarked. "Oh, for God's sake!", Sherlock shouted and leapt at him, biting his neck. "Ow, Sherlock, that hurts… that… oh…"

The detective gulped down some mouths of blood, not realizing which effect he had on John. When he was finished, he stepped back from his room-mate again and whipped his mouth. "Not bad, actually. Don't know what Mycroft has against werewolf blood." John just gawped at him.

The detective chuckled. "A bit of a culture shock, isn't it? But it's ok, really, it won't harm you. See, the wound is already healing." The doctor touched his neck and was stunned to find it almost unharmed. "And I have a boner," he remarked. Now Sherlock was really laughing. "You really got no filter today, do you?"

"I… oh… crap, why did I say that?", John said, but he was still too awe-struck to be really embarrassed. "Because you felt like it," Sherlock said and winked at him. Come on, now, let's go to my bedroom." "Bedroom… right. What will we do there?" The detective rolled his eyes, grabbed John's hand and pulled him towards the bedroom.

The doctor, who was still holding his shirt, suddenly dug his heels into the ground, making Sherlock stumble. "Wait." "What now?", the detective complained. "If you are… a vampire… and I am a werewolf… how am I a werewolf?" Sherlock sighed at this hardly eloquent question. "You got scratched. Probably one of your patients." "So, you are saying that I was treating a werewolf without REALIZING it?", John asked. "He or she was probably on the verge of transforming. Happens occasionally. They realize they are transforming, but can't get into safety soon enough. Someone tries to 'help' and gets scratched."

"Miss Norrison," John piped up after some thinking, "she left in such a hurry the other week, I was worried." "When exactly was that?" "Last month… 27th, I think." "Bingo," Sherlock said, "full moon. And the clocks were changed on that day, which she must have forgotten." John stared at him. "I'm a werewolf. But… what am I going to do? What… how…" "You can transform in the basement, " the detective said, "but sex first, panic later, come on now."

This time, John followed Sherlock without any resistance. But when they were standing in the middle of the detective's room, John simply froze. "Shush," Sherlock said, stepping close to his room mate, and softly stroking his hair, "it's alright, don't worry now. It will all be fine. Just like you always say, ok?" "Ok," John murmured, letting the detective take his shirt away from him and put it on the floor.

Then, the detective slowly stripped for John, making sure to give the doctor a show. He opened the buttons of his shirt, languidly stroking the exposed skin. "Look, John, this is all for you." Sherlock pinched one of his nipples and moaned softly. When he was done with the buttons, he shrugged his shirt off, opened his trouser's button, and then slowly his zipper. "I've dreamt about this, John," he said, pushing his trousers down and out, "only I couldn't act on it. You understand that, can't you? You were human. And so vulnerable. I would have torn you apart." Sherlock started softly stroking his cock through his pants. "But now you're strong. Now we're on the same page and we can do it… do it like animals."

Suddenly, John gave out a guttural growl and leapt at the detective, pulling him into a fierce kiss. At first it was all teeth and tongue, but then Sherlock grabbed John's neck and held him in place, so he could slow the kiss down a bit. Tasting John was exactly as he had expected… and yet so different. He even tasted like an animal. For some reason, this turned the detective on like nothing else.

When he couldn't take it any longer, he broke the kiss, opened John's trousers and pushed them down. The doctor at once ground against him. Sherlock moaned loudly at the new friction. They were both gloriously hard now and there dicks were rubbing against each other. Sherlock resumed kissing John, rubbing his tongue eagerly at the doctor's.

Suddenly, John pushed him away and onto the bed. "Turn around," he barked, "I want you now." The detective shuddered slightly. How he loved John's military voice! He turned around, got out of his pants and onto his hands and knees. "Take me, John." He heard the doctor getting out of his pants as well, but then nothing happened. "What's wrong?", Sherlock asked, looking at John over his shoulder. "Lube, we need lube… and condoms," the doctor mumbled.

The detective laughed. "It's ok, John, really. STDs are the last thing we have to worry about right now. I can't get any and I'm sure you don't have any." "But it will hurt…" "I'm a vampire, I can take it," Sherlock said, "come on now." He wriggled his hips. This was all the doctor needed as an incentive. Or the wolf in him needed, at any rate.

Sherlock felt the head of a cock at his entrance and shortly after that, John entered him. They both moaned. The detective had never before been on the receiving end of this, but oh, how good that felt! John slowly pulled out and back in. "Oh, John," Sherlock moaned, "you are big." "Hm, yes, keep talking," the doctor encouraged. "I like your big cock. Makes me feel so full… ngh… yes, like that… oh!", Sherlock said. John had hit his sweet spot and that was just… actually, Sherlock didn't have any words for that.

"You like that?", John asked. "Yes, there, right there. Hm… yes." The doctor started moving in earnest now, building a steady rhythm while gripping Sherlock's hips so hard it would leave bruises on a human. "Yes, oh God, yessss. Harder, John, fuck me harder." And the sounds John made! Like a wild animal, panting and gasping. The detective started moaning louder, as the doctor increased his pace.

"Oh yes, fuck me, harder, yes, fill me up with your massive cock, yea, John!" On hearing his name, the doctor fucked Sherlock even harder. "Sherlock, God, you're so beautiful. Oh God, I'm gonna coooome." "Yes, come for me, John, fill me up with your sperm." "Ooooh, Sherlock!" The detective felt John pulse inside of him, which almost drove him over the edge. The doctor rode his orgasm out and then collapsed on top og Sherlock.

After calming down a bit, he asked: "Did you come?" The detective chuckled. "For that I need something else, I'm afraid." He could almost feel John's frown. "What do you need?" "Lie on the bed and I will show you," Sherlock said. John did so and the detective climbed on top of him, John's sperm slowly trickling out of his entrance. He lay down on John and started nuzzling his neck. "Just lie still," Sherlock said. When the doctor seemed relaxed enough, Sherlock bit down hard, pushing his fangs deep into John's flesh. When he drew the doctor's blood, he felt his orgasm approach and started rutting against John's leg. And then it was there: red-hot oblivion. Sherlock moaned into John's neck and felt himself stiffening, as his cock pulsed against the other man's upper leg and thigh. At the same time, the doctor let out a shout and came a second time.

"Oh God, dear God, that was brilliant… just… amazing," John said. Sherlock chuckled. "That's not what people usually say." "Oh, shut up," the doctor laughed. Sherlock lazily stretched his hand out and picked up a tissue from his bedside table. When he was done cleaning both of the up, John was already deeply asleep.

"Sleep well, my hungry wolf," Sherlock whispered, "you are going to need all of your strength tomorrow."


End file.
